


Lost and Found

by road_of_ruin



Series: Spark [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/road_of_ruin/pseuds/road_of_ruin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A battle forces Team Prime to leave behind a wounded Smokescreen, who is found by a human and taken to the dump to rust.</p><p>And there, amongst the trash, he is found again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> First foray into this fandom and it's a small little ship. Not even sorry.

Everything hurt. That was the first thought Smokescreen had when he trembled back online, groaning and venting his engine in a painful exhale. Even in his alternate form he hurt all over, which let him know that transforming was probably out of the question. _Pit_ , even his _energon_ hurt, he was sure.

Smokescreen carefully onlined his optics to peer around, trying to remember where he was and how he’d gotten there… and why he was alone. That was odd for any member of Team Prime. Optimus always made certain everyone was accounted for. Even screw up rookies.

The thought of his Prime warmed him a little, like it always did, and Smokescreen dared a slight roll forward to test his wheels. It was agony, and he barely made it an inch, but at least he rolled. No flats, a tiny blessing. He’d take it.

His headlights clicked on and he swept them around the gloom. Broken things, twisted metal, a terrible smell. It seemed Smokescreen had been thrown out with the trash - or, _dump_ , he supposed. That’s what the children called these piles of discarded, useless things.

A dark part of his mind murmured about how fitting this all was. He brushed the thought away with a vengeance. Self-doubt could come after he made it back to base. _If_ he made it back.

Surely Optimus was looking for him? He never left a bot behind. That was more than protocol to his Prime. It was who he was.

Smokescreen’s vents exhaled again in a sigh. The static from his comm was a good indicator his connection to base had been severed and, if he was remembering this right, he was a good six hundred miles away.

He wouldn’t be Smokescreen, however, if he didn’t try.

“Smokescreen to base. Come in base,” he murmured, shaking from the effort it was becoming to stay online. His whole frame was dented and busted up, it felt like, and he knew he was probably leaking energon from somewhere. Ratchet would have a fit if he saw him now. “Base. Come in.”

Just more static answered him. Smokescreen did his best not to let that worry him. After all, he’d been in worse situations. Sure, a human dumpheap wasn’t the greatest spot, but it was clear of Cons and humans alike. Scratched and dented and filthy, Smokescreen couldn’t ask for better camouflage.

It eased him somewhat knowing he was at least safe to stay in one place. He didn’t think he could move anyway.

He clicked his lights off and slowed his engines to a low hum to keep himself warm. It was cold and he couldn’t afford offlining completely again… just in case he didn’t wake up.

Sighing to himself, Smokescreen settled in for the wait, thoughts of his team and his Prime the only things he had to stay awake.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Awareness came slowly to the gentle touch of a tiny hand against his rims. The sun was high and baking and Smokescreen let his engine cut out as quietly as possible.

Not quiet enough, however, for the little hand moved to his headlight and a gleeful little giggle followed. Smokescreen stayed perfectly still as he onlined his optics, well hidden in his alternate form, and looked to see who was there.

Two huge, brown eyes peered at him, curious and excited. A tiny human, smaller than Raf even.

Smokescreen had no experience with humans younger than Raf, though he remembered enough of listening to the children that small, tiny humans like this one were even more breakable than the bigger ones.

“You pretty,” the little girl cooed, her dark fingers patting his hood. She pulled her hand away, covered in dust, and giggled again. “Dirty too. I like dirty. Dirt fun to play in.”

Smokescreen had to smile to himself because she was at least cute. There was definitely worse company to be had waiting for a rescue. He just hoped she took him as a car and nothing else.

“You like playing dirt?” she asked, as though waiting for him to actually answer her. Smokescreen was almost tempted, but knew the rules. Contact with humans outside the Team were strictly prohibited unless all other options were exhausted.

She didn’t seem to mind, however, patting him again and promising to come back later with someone named Teddy. He hoped it wasn’t a bigger human. Last thing he needed was to be sold for scrap.

Perhaps he deserved such a fate, that dark part hissed in his mind again. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore. So he grasped at the one thought he had left powerful enough to push the doubt away.

_Optimus_. He vented a slow, long exhale, grateful that it was at least easier than it had been when he’d first come online. His team was looking for him, he could and he would get through this. He had to.

Because damn him to the Pit if he ever disappointed his Prime ever again.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Teddy, it turned out, was a fluffy thing the girl excitedly showed him. It was brown, with a red bow and black eyes, and she waved one of its stubby arms at him in greeting.

Amused, Smokescreen watched her set up a small table with odd plastic cups and plates. She pushed it so he was on the side opposite her, Teddy to her left. Then she pretended to pour a drink into the cups and serve them. It was overall sweet and Smokescreen was getting soft about her, even if it made no sense to him.

Once that was done, she tottered off with the plastic things, leaving him alone long enough to retry his comm. But not long enough to vent in frustration without being heard.

“What wrong?” the girl asked before he could turn off his engine again. She placed her hand on his headlight. “You leave?”

Her heartbroken little face had his engine stuttering off before he realized what he’d done. She smiled at that and hugged him as best she could, covered instantly in the muck and dirt. She didn’t seem to mind one bit, looking up at him in worry.

“What wrong?” she asked again, obviously waiting for an answer.

Smokescreen weighed the consequences of breaking protocol and speaking. She seemed young enough that bigger humans wouldn’t believe she’d made friends with a talking car, which was a positive. And if he played his cards right, he may be able to get her to bring him a radio or something to hack that he could send a signal with. She seemed eager to please and make friends. The worse that could happen would be a bigger human hearing them.

She was just wilting at his silence when he made his decision. “What’s your name?” he asked her, because he honestly wanted to know.

“Makena!” she was beside herself with happiness, like she talked to cars that talked back all the time. “What yours?”

He smiled at that, his databank pulling up her name’s meaning. A bit of an odd quirk for a guard, perhaps, but if his time with Alpha Trion in the Archives had taught him anything, it was to find value in even the smallest things.

Makena. Happy one. How perfectly fitting for her.

“Smokescreen,” he offered in return, much to her delight.

“Smoskeen,” she parroted back, missing letters and slurring it. Smokescreen didn’t know his name could sound so adorable.

“Close enough,” he chuckled, which made her laugh too. How infectious. “Can you help me? I’m lost.”

“Oh no!” her dismay was instant, and her little face pinched in determination. “I help!”

Smokescreen smiled at that and rolled forward to bump her as gently as he could. She giggled and pat him like an old friend.

“Thank you, Makena,” he murmured. “Do you have an old radio I could use?”

“Smoskeen want music?” she asked before beaming. “I have! Be right back!”

She scampered off and Smokescreen vented in relief. Hacking radios was something he could do, at least. Though, perhaps, a bit tricky to pull off in vehicle mode.

Even without the promise of pain, transforming was still out of the question. Talking cars were one thing, but talking, giant robots were another. He’d just have to make it work.

She came back with a small pink thing that dutifully played him music. He laughed at it but thanked her all the same.

“I need to use your radio to call my friends,” he said as gently as he could. “Could you make sure no one comes to interrupt me?”

“Okay! Call friends!” she seemed ecstatic about the very idea and hurried off to do as he asked. Smokescreen waited until she was out of sight before pulling back some of his plating to slide forward a connecting node small enough to attach to the tiny radio.

Static assured him that he’d connected fully and he began scanning frequencies, amplifying the radio signal as best he could to achieve the desired effect. Risky, but necessary.

Stretching the connection to the limit, he sent through a distress code and coordinates in five second bursts for a full minute, then two, then three, before cutting off the connection. He hoped it would be enough to reach his team.

If anyone could decode an Iacon distress signal, it was Optimus Prime.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

She brought Teddy again the second day, and the radio. He let her play her music and serve him invisible liquids until she was bored of it. Then she set about exploring him inch by visible inch, absolutely awed by his paint job under the grime.

“You pretty!” she told him again. “But dirty. I like dirty.”

“I know,” Smokescreen chuckled. “And thank you. It is a pretty flashy paint job, isn’t it?” Not that it had won him any points with the Team, but it was just who he was. Maybe _he_  just didn’t fit.

He vented sadly, catching her attention. “What wrong? Why you sad?”

“I’m lost,” he said, nudging her. “I don’t think my friends are going to find me here.”

“Why?” she asked in dismay. Smokescreen wondered how he could explain the doubt and dark feelings swirling inside him, or if that would go over her head. How to make her understand that he was lost and didn’t think he’d ever be found because he wasn’t _worth_ finding?

She took his silence as enough time to come to a decision. “Is because dirt? I clean!”

She ran off before he could tell her that wasn’t necessary and sighed again. He doubted a good scrub would do anything more than make him more visible, but he had to admit a bath sounded wonderful, even if all she did was towel him down.

Sitting there alone waiting, the dark thoughts came again, and he did his best to shove them aside. His Prime would worry if he could hear them, he knew that for certain. Just as he knew his team was working tirelessly to bring him home again, useless rookie or not.

_Unless they think I’ve been terminated_ , he had to consider it, and tried not to fall into his gloom.

His mood, however, refused to rise until his new little friend returned, dragging a pail of water and a couple rags under her arms. Water was sloshing everywhere despite her best efforts, but she hardly seemed to mind given how hot it was outside.

“You get clean!” she said once the bucket was next to him. It was barely half full, but it would work. She took a rag and soaked it before rubbing it over his hood. It was blissfully cool against his heated metal and he sighed in content. She seemed excited that he was perfectly white under all that grime and started chattering to him about Teddy and a thing called a unicorn she’d named Rainbow.

“She white like you!” she told him once she’d uncovered his racing stripes. “Ooooh! Pretty colors!”

Smokescreen chuckled at her enthusiasm for everything. It perked him up enough to light a hope in his spark, that he may be found again and soon.

_Optimus_. He was dreaming, he knew he was. His Prime deserved a bot far greater than him to call his own. But dreams were meant to be held and he held it with everything he was. He would be found, he would be patched up, and he would be back with the others - with his Prime - again.

“You okay?” she asked him suddenly and Smokescreen’s engines gave a startled noise. She giggled and pat the clean headlight she had just finished wiping. “You quiet.”

“Just thinking, sorry,” he apologized, resuming his quiet idle as she wiped him clean.

“About what?” Her eyes were huge and curious on her dark face. Smokescreen really couldn’t _not_ say anything to such a look.

“Someone… special,” Smokescreen told her in a quiet voice. “Someone I’m really missing with all my spark.”

Her face crumpled in concern and he got another hug, damp and tiny, but sweet enough for him to smile.

“No sad,” she said, all determination and reassurance. “Special one find you.”

“I really hope so,” he murmured, optics sliding off with a long, sad sigh of his Prime’s name, holding onto that flickering hope for all he was worth.

After all, he’d believed in the team this far. He could trust in them to bring him home again, no matter how long it took.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

The next day they celebrated getting him clean with a short drive. It hurt to move, but her little squeals of delight kept him steady as he revved and spun cookies in the small space he occupied.

After, once she was tired and giggly, she brought Teddy over and sat on his hood, telling him new tales of the gallant Sir Ted and the fair Lady Rainbow who saved his life in a grand, epic adventure worthy of any history book.

Once the tale was over, she explained to him how he’d come to be in the trash. Apparently her daddy owned the dump and got a big truck to haul him out of the field he’d been found in and dragged here. It made sense as to why he was alone, at least, knowing his team had probably had to leave him behind in a last second field decision, but he’d already been gone by the time they’d come back for him. Knowing them like he did, they’d probably assumed the Cons had him as well, not a tiny girl human.

Which meant they were probably further from finding him than he’d first imagined.

He hacked the radio once more, sending out his distress signal in Iacon code for as long as he dared before letting the girl turn it to a music station and hold a tea party with him and Teddy.

“Smoskeen want sugar in his tea?” she asked, imperious, and he chuckled the affirmative. She asked the same of Teddy, who said nothing, but somehow she knew he wanted sugar too. Two cubes, please, but of course.

He jacked the radio later that night once his little friend was gone and listened to the radio waves, hoping that he’d hear an answer to his calls.

It was nearly midnight when he finally did.

_Smokescreen. Status. Coordinates. Optimus._

Smokescreen’s engines revved in joy at that and sent his reply.

_Optimus. Safe. Coordinates attached. Smokescreen._

His very spark was fluttering in it’s chamber as he punched in the coordinates and waited. His Prime was searching for him, not Ratchet on the computers, or Raf, his back up in all things tech. Optimus was the one coming. _Optimus_.

He got an answering affirmative and then had to cut the connection for safety’s sake, but not before receiving one last piece of code: _Smokescreen. Forgive me. Optimus_.

Smokescreen was sure his spark was about to beat right out of his chestplates.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

Within the hour, a ground bridge had opened within driving distance. Smokescreen whooped in joy at seeing it, but as he began to roll painfully forward, a figure grew from the swirling green energy, running for him. Smokescreen stopped short and his spark constricted painfully. Optimus.

“Smokescreen,” Optimus stopped short as well, giving him room. He seemed almost uncertain as much as he was relieved. “How do you fare?”

“Optimus,” Smokescreen couldn’t keep the warmth out of his voice even if he tried and forced himself to transform. He winced once he was standing, his wounds far more apparent than they had been as a car. “I’m fine,” he still reassured with a smile, because he knew his Prime needed to hear it. “Could use a good fix up, though.”

“Of course, I had Ratchet prepare the medbay,” Optimus said quickly, looking around at the trash heap Smokescreen had called home with blatant regret on his face. “Smokescreen…”

“Optimus,” he didn’t need to hear an apology. There was nothing to be sorry for. “I’m safe, the mission was a success. You made a tactical move and I followed your orders. I will never blame you for that.”

For a moment, his Prime looked down, mulling over the sincerity of his words, then he offered Smokescreen a far too rare smile. “Let’s get you back to base.”

Smokescreen stepped forward eagerly, only hesitating when his foot hit the ground bridge. He looked back at the dump and quickly saved the coordinates to his hard drive before finally following Optimus to where his friends - and one very unamused medic - were waiting for him.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-

 

He was there when she toddled out in the morning, gleaming like a new star after the bath he’d taken at base to clean out his wounds. Optimus, too, was parked in close, keeping an eye on him for Ratchet’s sake since Smokescreen had gone against the doctor’s orders to say farewell to his little friend.

“I’m not lost anymore,” he told her, accepting her hug with a chuckle. “Thanks to you, Makena.”

She grinned a toothy grin and pat his racing stripes. “Special one?” she asked, nodding at Optimus. His Prime’s engine hummed a little in surprise as Smokescreen laughed and gave her the affirmative. “Good luck, Smoskeen! Come back say hi!”

“I will,” he promised her, giving her a little nudge with his bumper. Then Optimus was ordering a ground bridge and he was calling out a goodbye, spinning a cookie to make her squeal in glee before disappearing through the swirling energy.

“Humans will never cease to amaze me with their capability for compassion,” Optimus mused once they were back at base and Ratchet herded Smokescreen to the med berths. For some reason, his Prime had yet to leave his side, a fact that made his spark swoop in joy.

“I know what you mean,” he chuckled, sitting down so Ratchet could flutter around him the grumbling way he did. “I’m thankful it was her and her father that found me. Cons would’ve scrapped me by now.”

Optimus looked vaguely guilty again, for some reason not letting it go. It was oddly endearing and Smokescreen dared himself to reach out his servos and clasp his Prime’s arm.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he promised, his spark burning bright, shining in his eyes. “You found me too.”

The smile he got for that was something that would keep him warm for many cycles to come.

“Yes, “ Optimus murmured. “I did.”


End file.
